Dorothy the Farmhand in Oz

A short story

The day began in the usual fashion for that time in my life. I woke up to the view of sunlight streaming through the window shutters. The bands of light hitting the orange stone tiles made the room glow with a delicious aura.

The warmth of those quiet, beautiful mornings were surreal to a man who had been used to waking up to a blaring alarm clock in a dark apartment. A year prior, I was a suit-and-tie living in the city. But that morning I woke up a grubby farmhand in the country.

I pulled back my covers like usual. And to my dismay, I realized I didn’t take my boots off before falling asleep again. Long and hard work days had me drifting off as soon as I closed my eyes.

“Damnit,” I said aloud, and then I thought about how much my feet were going to stink and how my boots are just getting riper and riper. It was the rainy season and the boots I had were merely rain resistant. I couldn’t afford a rainproof pair for awhile. “Ah, well,” I thought, “I’ll go barefoot today.”

It was cold but I knew at that point that some numb fingers or toes wouldn’t kill me. So many old beliefs were dissolving in my experience of outdoor labor. My mind was softening and my body felt indestructible.

I began the day with a lettuce harvest. I brought a knife to cut the heads from the ground and a bin to carry them back. As I was walking the first haul to the sinks for rinsing I was struck by what I can only describe as a “supernatural download of information.”

It was like a seed planted in my brain and then it sprouted and instantly grew into an old growth tree. The whole story was there. I was living the story in that moment. The story was already written and then filmed. It was the Wizard of Oz, and I was playing the main character of Dorothy.

Okay, a lot to explain here but stay with me. This “supernatural download” was delivered with an immense amount of energy. Powerful energy. Some switch flipped and I became manic. An overwhelming love filled me up.

Love for the information, love for the other farmhands, love for the impossible reality that made me Dorothy in an uncanny rendition of The Wizard of Oz. Real, big, unconditional love.

I put the bin of lettuce heads down and squatted into a comfortable position, smiling like a madman. I looked over at the other three farmhands.

The first was Joe. He smoked weed. A lot of it. A good kid, though, for sure. He stole all of our hearts with his gentle freedom. But Joe was an airhead. I don’t mean to be mean, it’s just he often lost his train of thought and suffered from bouts of confusion.

Joe was the Scarecrow, a fixture of the farm. And if he only had a brain he’d really be something. Smoking wasn’t helping, although it seemed perfect for the character he was playing. Made him distinct. Showed the karmic wheel he was strapped to. A prop that gave his character some form.

The second was Tim. He was often called “The Turtle” because he was an early riser and would steadily work all day until sunset. While everyone else danced around and burned out, he kept a strong and unflagging pace. And get this, he had an old shoulder and knee injury that locked up his joints.

Yeah, Tim was the Tin Man. He needed “oil” to move his body. He’d work and stretch, work and stretch, until all the work was done. Melancholic might be the best word to describe him. When we spoke, our conversations tended to pierce the emptiness in his chest.

Tim was looking for his heart in a world that spit him out. Work distracted him from his woes. I guess I played the role of reminding him that love relies on opening up. I didn’t mean to preach. The words always just spilled right out.

The third was Liana. She went to school for agriculture. She had many big, partially-formed dreams. She was as happy as a clam and the most energetic of our motley crew. And you can probably guess the thing that stood in her way. Liana the Lion lacked courage.

Joe the Scarecrow, Tim the Tin Man, and Liana the Lion. Too much, right? That’s not all, either. An unfamiliar car pulled up while I looked upon the busy crew. And out came a small, young woman. She flashed a smile to Liana and they started talking for a minute before walking over to me.

“Hey Don, this is my friend, Tory. She’s the one we were talking about. She’ll be shadowing you today,” Liana said. I stood with a smile and nodded. Tory extended her hand and we shook.

The day moved on and I found myself talking a lot and fast, everything that was on my mind. I didn’t mention that I was seeing the world around me as The Wizard of Oz, though. That felt like it was mine to hold for awhile. I don’t think I was scaring her or making her uncomfortable, since she laughed and nodded along with me the whole day.

Tory was my Toto. Okay, I know. It isn’t nice to give someone the role of a dog. But the truth is that I fell in love with her right off the bat. She instantly became my trusty companion. She never left my side and I spoke to her without expecting a response.

And then it happened. The cornerstone of the story. While me and Tory were with Farmer Otto, the sole owner of the farm, it became clear that he was The Wizard. Farmer Otto always wore a hat. Being sixty plus put him in a place that made it obvious to most that he probably was bald or balding. Well, Farmer Otto wasn’t convinced of that. His hat protected his youthful identity.

He wasn’t an easy man to work for. His micro-managing style got under your skin. It was no wonder why the turnover rate of the farm was so high. For Tory, his behavior was unacceptable. And so she acted. I didn’t catch her plan in action but I certainly saw the repercussions of it.

Tory found a way to trip Farmer Otto so that it looked like an accident. She crouched behind him while pretending to observe something in the greenhouse. Farmer Otto in the middle of a flurry of commands took a step back, exactly as Tory planned, and he stumbled over her and fell. Not hard, but with enough force to lose his hat. It was the first time I saw his mostly bald head.

It still hits me in a strange way, the memory of that moment. Farmer Otto desperately scrambled on the ground trying to retrieve his lost hat. He did it with the adrenaline of a life or death situation. Such expressive fear. It was both deeply sad and fascinating.

Tory dramatically exclaimed, “are you okay!” Then she turned her head towards me and I saw that she was holding back laughter. I felt a strong pull to join her, but I held it off. Shame came over me. It felt like justice, sure, but it also felt terrible. And somehow, it made me love and respect the old man. Right there on the spot.

With his hat back home, Farmer Otto settled down. Tory apologized a bunch and he waved his hand through the air like he was shooing away a fly. Before leaving he said, “okay, so you understand what needs to be done.” Then awkwardly stepped out of the greenhouse and out of sight.

Tory burst out laughing. “I can’t believe that old trick worked on that old man,” she said, “he needs a good spanking, I think.” Tory showed me a lot. A lot about myself. How I’ve been fantasizing retribution for Farmer Otto’s behavior for some time.

The reality of it didn’t give me the satisfaction that I expected. Instead, it awakened the opposite side of myself. A side that doesn’t fantasize. A side that loves what is right here, right now. After seeing him clawing for his hat, I wanted to hold him in my arms.

So that makes Farmer Otto The Wizard. “Of course,” I thought, “that should have been the first person I recognized in this odd experience.” By the time I was firmly settled into the realization that I was Dorothy the Farmhand, I started to play with it.

Where’s the yellow brick road? Who is the Wicked Witch? Who is the Good Witch? What represents the Munchkins? Was Kansas my old life and this is the dream? Does this mean that the city is where I ultimately belong? So many questions swirled. Made me dizzy and feeling drunk.

In a moment of relieving silence, a clear thought blossomed in my mind: click your heels three times and say “there’s no place like home.” It might sound silly, but I gave it a try. I wasn’t wearing sparkly red shoes. I wasn’t wearing anything on my feet but a day’s mud, but I clicked my bare heels and said the words anyway.

That’s when I passed out. Tory told me that she looked up from weeding and saw me crumpled up against the side of the greenhouse. Not sure how long I was like that before she found me.

Although I was lights out in this world, wherever I traveled to, I was awake and at least one light was on. It came from a single dingy bulb above my head with a rusty pull-chain. I was in a janitor’s closet. It was like any other, a small cave of stained cement and tile with metal racks full of torn-open boxes and plastic bottles containing different colored cleaning solutions.

“How did I get here?” I sincerely asked myself.

Vague memory floated to the surface. I saw my heels clicking together in a bed of weeds. An odd image, but there was more to it. The memory was like a dream and I was losing it fast. After a few minutes I finally surrendered and calmed myself.

“Nothing to do now but open the door,” I said out loud.

The door opened to a brightly lit elementary school. Children flooded in and out of classrooms. I looked around. Some of the children gave me blank stares. It was good to know that they could see me. I wasn’t some kind of phantom here. I’m still a solid being.

Looking down at myself I noticed that I was not dressed like a janitor, or any decent adult in a school building. I was barefoot, muddy, and I was wearing a ratty work outfit.

“Oh, yes, I remember that I’m working on a farm. But… what is this place? Why am I here?… Am I dead!?”

As a pang of terror shot through me, a crowd of children parted down the middle of the hallway. A little boy walked through the opening and stood five or six feet away. I jumped back when he looked up. It was the chubby cheeks of my child self. I was looking into the eyes of a boy I hadn’t thought about in many years—almost forgot about him entirely.

“Hey, are you alright,” my child-self asked.

Embarrassment washed over me. “Heh, yeah. I’m fine, I think. Just showed up out of the blue. Didn’t have time to wash.”

“Yeah, I see that. Where are you from?”

“Not sure. I think I’m working on a farm. Or maybe I’m just wandering around trying things out. I don’t know. Life’s been pulling me around lately. Been looking for home, I guess.”

“Like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz! She’s looking for home.”

“Yeah, you’re right. That reminds me of something… before I got here, I was in Oz, I think. The Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion were there. Toto and The Wizard, too.”

“Wait. Does that mean you were Dorothy!?”

“I guess I was.”

“Wow. This is unbelievable.” My child-self was in a state of awe and wonder.

“What do you mean?”

“You are me in the future. I can tell because you have my eyes and nose. No mistaking it. And that means my dream comes true.”

“Your dream?”

“Yeah, I’m obsessed with The Wizard of Oz. You remember how often you use to watch that movie? I’m living that part of our life right now. And, just the other day I wished to go on the same adventure as Dorothy. So if you made it there then that means my wish comes true!”

“I remember watching that movie a lot, but I definitely don’t remember making a wish…”

“You are forgetting something important.” He put his hand on my arm.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“You forgot that the strongest way to wish is in silence. Words don’t work. It’s something else. You once did it all the time. I know that because I’m doing it a lot right now.”

“Okay. I believe you. But why would you make that specific wish for us?”

“That’s a good question. Let me see.” He put his cute little hand up to his chin and thought about it for a moment. “At first I was drawn in to Oz by the colors and songs. Then after watching the movie again and again and again, I saw something new. I saw that I was very much like Dorothy. She chose magic and adventure instead of her boring life. I would do the same if I had the chance.”

“You’re bored with your life?”

“Yeah, sometimes. I just have so much fun in my dreams and stories! When I come back into real life it’s not as fun.” He put his head down and scratched his head. “But Dorothy at the end of the movie comes back to her life and is happy. I guess that’s what I think about now.”

“Why?”

“If Dorothy can come back to reality and be happy. Maybe I can too.”

A bell rang out. My child-self looked up at me and said goodbye with his eyes. Then he smiled and it almost brought me to tears. I had no more words to speak so I smiled back and nodded. And then he turned away, walked down the hall, and was swept up by the current of the other children as they all filed into their classrooms.

I stood in the empty hallway. Nothing came to mind. Silence snuggled me up. It was tender and warm. And from the void a final thought arose before I clicked my heels three times again: Home is a smile on the face of a child. Home is where we rest and wish. Home is right here, not over there.

When I came back, Tory, Tim, Joe, Liana, and Farmer Otto were standing around me. When I said, “hey",” it startled Joe. Everyone else faced me as I sat up.

“Dude, you scared us!” Joe said with sincerity.

“Yeah, you had us worried,” Tim said with his hands firmly in his pockets.

“I was about to pour my water on your head!” Liana said, shaking her water bottle in my face.

“I guess this means you’re taking the day off…” Farmer Otto said. He couldn’t help making work the priority even then. I could tell he was worried about me, though. I gave him a smile that made him uncomfortable. It was probably the first honest smile I ever gave as an adult.

I loved him and I loved the crew. I was Dorothy the Farmhand. The place wasn’t Oz but it was filled with its own kind of magic. The movie makes more sense to me now. Oz is like a reminder of heaven. You can get caught in a storm and crash-land into that memory. Or you can find your way there on a gentle breeze with an open heart. But either way, it’s only there to show us that heaven is home.

Since my farming days the burden of living hasn’t been as heavy. I no longer need any manic episodes to thrust me into the awareness that heaven isn’t “somewhere over the rainbow.” And that it isn’t even a place.

It only seems like it comes and goes as life ebbs and flows. But that’s not accurate. It’s always around if I’m willing to let go, rise up to meet it, and fall madly in love with every piece of right now.

A few months later and I quit farming and was on to the next thing in my life. Nothing worth mentioning here. It was just another game I played while feeling up and down. Another playground to remember the same lessons.

And fortunately for me, the yellow brick road finally appeared. Now when I’m lost, I merely begin to walk until I find home again. It doesn’t take too long. It’s always so much closer than I think.